Hurrrgh.
It's me again. You know, the one you feel like you hate even though you've never actually/properly met me... Yeah, that cunt.
So yeah, about last night... Again. I'm sorry, very-few-people-who-expect-and-enjoy-my-crappy-blog, I was out again.
Every bloody time, I regret doing it. Usually around the time I'm being chased by ten or twenty running zombies actually...
Every bloody time...
Yeah, I suppose last night was maybe an exception to the golden rule of (read the fucking title), because somebody had won something.
Oh, I'm sorry. Did you misread that? Did it look like I said I went to a party? Because I didn't. I hate parties.
Uh, I wasn't at a party, but I was 'out celebrating'. There is a difference.
This survivor I know managed to win a place in the council of survivors, fending off all the other non-infected competition.
Out of everything that's worth celebrating in my life, knowing someone who was elected for something is right up there.
My congratulations again, Rusty, if you've decided to read this for some reason. I certainly couldn't do what you did!
OK, so that's pretty much why there was no blog last night. Let's move on shall we?
Right, well... I'm going to get eaten alive tomorrow. Not by zombies, lord no... By the men's 1sts badminton team!
Royal Holloway stands no chance. They're meant to be really good. At least I'll get to sit awkwardly with A inbetween thrashings.
Only way I cxan see us winning is if the opposing team is attacked by the horde on the way in, and then we'll get the points.
Well, I hope that doesn't actually happen. And I also hope she forgives me for being shit at life.
REMAIN INDOORS